


Tales of the Untrue

by TheKingIsDead (witch_lit)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Brothers, Family, Hate, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch_lit/pseuds/TheKingIsDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard's killed them all in a fit of rage and a puff of smoke. Little does the world know that years later, when Mikey's world stops spinning so badly, they're going to collide again and display all of their hate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make Me Ill

**Author's Note:**

> This is a muse-fic, and is unlikely to be updated regularly. Apologies for that.

Gerard smiles, puffing out a lungful of rotting air. You can feel the atmosphere layered with the stench of blood, and a coating has stuck inside of Gerard's nose, listlessly waiting to disappear just like everything else.   
  
He inclines his head slightly, smile still gracefully unfeeling as he gazes down at the body of his mother, disfigured, his father, slabs of fat cut off and frying in the pan just like the pig he is.   
  
Then there's Mikey.  
  
Oh, Mikey's a very special person, a very special brother that it kills Gerard just to hurt. The boy is alive, terrified, eyes wide and heart pounding, ears ringing with silent screams for help. Screams that will never be answered. He's alone with the murderer, corpses of an entire family littering the ground to remind him of his... Older brother's sins.   
  
With a peck to the forehead of his most loved one, Gerard leaves the place he's never called a home and disappears to the noisily erie city streets.  
  
\--Five Years Later--  
  
Mikey's face breaks into a small smile as he places the last of his boxes in his new apartment. He's finally turned eighteen, moved out of his foster parent's house and into his own little place. It isn't much, with rusty water, spider webs and little rats to compete for his attention, and it's a bit of a shithole but it's his shithole. It's a new home, free of memories and free of a family he doesn't want to have.   
  
Alone.  
  
He's finally alone, after the year at the asylum and getting through high school day by day, breath by breath. He can finally breath, knowing there's no one else around him for his brother to kill.  
  
No matter what he's doing, he always seems to have Gerard on the mind. It's strange, how the fear turned into a desire to kill turned into a simmering rage that he his behind a carefully constructed mask, a solid and nearly impenetrable mask.   
  
He's hiding because he wants someone to find him while he stays hidden.   
  
He wants Gerard as far away as possible and right next to him simultaneously.  
  
 _He killed your entire family. He murdered them, with no warning. He killed them all, kissed you goodbye and left._  
  
That voice everyone seems to have that can't possibly be healthy comes back to remind him. He knows. He knows.  
  
 _I just wish it were a lie._  
  
Mikey wishes that Gerard is real, that he wasn't a figment of imagination. That he isn't a piece of fiction pulled from Mikey's mind but in the last years that's what he's turned into. There's been no trace of him, all pictures burned and documents destroyed. But everything was gone... Nothing but everyone's memories left, only Mikey's memories after everyone connected to Gerard died. No, they were murdered.   
  
He doesn't exist to anyone else, and through the years Mikey's stopped knowing what to believe. Is his brother real?   
  
It doesn't matter, the shrinks have said. It just matters if he's real to Mikey. And he is, so painfully real. So much it hurts, the pull and push feeling he gets just thinking about him. About his brother, about Gerard. The secretive teen who wAs always in his room or out at whereabouts unknown.  
  
Mikey misses him, wants him back. He hates Gerard.  
  
He hates him so much.  
  
So, so much.  
  
He hates him  
  
He _hates_ him.  
  
He hates him...  
  
He loves him, in the most twisted fashion. His thoughts rarely stray from him. He wants his brother back. He wants the teen who occasionally kissed him goodnight, described love with a faraway yet grounded air, who rarely opened up but was lovable when he did. He wants his Gerard back. _His_ Gerard.


	2. These Bright Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the neighbor, babe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after one of my friends (and ex girlfriend) got high as a motherfucking kite at lunch. First MCR post since I started high school, longer than the first chapter.

Mikey has only been moved into his shabby apartment for a day when he starts working. It was one of the reasons he moved, besides to be rid of that fake family. Close to his work, cheap. What else could he ask for? Gerard, maybe. His stupid older brother.   
  
It’s a simple enough job he has, and it takes him about an hour to have most everything down for his training. Easy job, low income, really just something until he can do better. He’s not entirely sure he can do better than Starbucks, though. He gets to fucking work with coffee, something that he loves no matter if his brother was an addict as well. Fucking Gerard.   
  
All Mikey has to do is not look like he’s about to kill someone, take orders and mix blends of pre-decided recipes. He’s thankful for the training, though. He’s always liked straight black coffee, but now if he wants to switch it up he isn’t condemned.  
  
Nonetheless useful and uneventful, his first day was somewhat exhausting. Not the work, but dealing with his co-workers and fighting off paranoia every time a dark head of hair would duck into the store. He’s not stupid, but he still can’t help but imagine… He can’t help but illusion himself into thinking that a pale, dark haired man will walk back into his life and try to kill him. He can’t help but wander his thoughts down all the stupid possibilities, even if it’ll never happen.   
  
A knock at what’s quite possibly his front door and Mikey is snapped from his thoughts, and he sighs, picking up his cooling mug of dark and delicious as he makes his way to the door, dragging his tired feet.   
  
He opens the door slowly, still tired, his eyes travelling up the frame of a rather short man holding a pan filled with some sort of mysterious substance until he reaches a smiling face.   
  
“Um…” Mikey says, no exactly knowing what to do.   
  
“Hi, I’m Frank, your neighbor,” The man, Frank, says, still smiling kindly. “I live in apartment 121, just down the hall. Gee and I heard we had a newbie in here, so we thought we’d make you a hot meal. You don’t have to worry, though. I did the cooking. Gee can’t cook worth a shit. It’s veggie lasagna, which around here I’m somewhat famous for, but if you have any allergies I can tell you if it’ll be a problem.”  
  
“I’m not allergic to anything,” Mikey says, shaking his head, still not really very sure of the situation. He has to struggle not to drop his coffee as the warm, but thankfully not hot, tray is shoved into his hands. “I’m Mikey,”  
  
Frank’s smile widens just a bit. It’s almost creepy. “I’ll see you around, then. Return the pan whenever. Maybe we can go for a drink sometimes, my treat. It’ll be fun if the shirt you’re wearing is any indication,”  
  
“Um… Okay.” Mikey uncertainly agrees, still off balance from the whole attack. Before anything else gets the chance to be said, Frank’s disappeared down the dimly-lit hallway.  
  
That wasn’t the strangest, or oddest, introduction Mikey’s ever had, especially considering his time in the asylum, but it certainly wasn’t the most typical, either. And his Black Flag T-shirt got mentioned. The friendliness his neighbor displayed… how queer.  
  
Maybe it’s normal. Mikey might just be out of touch with reality.  
  
\-- RUBBERDUCKIES --  
  
Frank sighs, closing he apartment door behind him as he closes his eyes to the unpacked boxes from the old apartment.   
  
“How is he?” His boyfriend rushes up to him, eager for information on their new neighbor.  
  
“Tired. Said he’d get a drink with us. Had a cup of coffee, guess he takes after someone I could mention in that aspect. Honestly, Gerard. I don’t know why you’re so excited about a new neighbor. We’re new in this area as well.”  
  
Gerard laughs. “You’ll find out soon enough.”  
  
Frank studies him for a moment, raising an eyebrow. “Friend from work?”  
  
He gets a chuckle. “I write comic books. I don’t _have_ any friends from work. “  
  
Frank rolls his eyes, swatting his boyfriend’s shoulder. “And I’m _actually_ a musician. You know what I mean.”  
  
Gerard shrugs. “You do play the guitar very well.”   
  
“You’re avoiding the subject.”  
  
The taller of the two is silent for a moment. “Yeah. You could say he’s a friend from work. It’s something like that.”


	3. The Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lasagna pans and planning.

Mikey walks down the hall, searching for the right door. The hall is cold and carpeted, kind of disgusting, the walls off-white. He can still smell smoke from years past, before there were alarms for fires and the black vision distorter would trigger them. The doors are in slightly better or worse shapes, depending on which on you looked at, some with scuff marks and muddy bottoms or others with clear evidence of being slammed one too many times. Door handles vary from door to door, a few of them all the same gilded and cracking knob, others newer and looking less likely to give you a splinter from the paint.

 

Zipping his sweater up just a bit higher, trying to protect himself from the cold as much as possible, Mikey stands in front of the door he has to visit, glass pan in hand. Unsure exactly how to go about this visit, Mikey looks down to make sure his shoelaces are tied and knocks, the sound echoing slighty into the room labeled (in off-white numbers) 121.

 

He waits a minute, looking around at the hallway walls rather awkwardly as people tend to do while waiting, shifting the weight in his hands, mentally checking to make sure his wallet is in his back pocket with the chain wrapped into the belt loop and his key is in his front pocket, awkwardly bulging like things in pockets tend to do.

 

The door opens a moment later, a slightly worn Frank opening the door. He smiles when he sees Mikey and the pan, though Mikey’s not exactly sure which one he’s happier about as he’s waved inside.

 

“You washed it!” Frank comments happily, Mikey following him to the kitchen. “I’m not usually the one who does the dishes, I cook, no way in Hell I’m cleaning as well.”

 

“Ah… Okay,” Mikey shifts his weight, looking around the small and worn kitchen much similar to his own. Bigger, though, which makes sense if it’s a two person apartment.

 

“Gee’s at work now, but should be here soon. Do you still want to go for drinks? It won’t be long, travel’s all that’s keeping Gee.”

 

“Er… Yeah, that would be cool.” Waiting for Frank’s girlfriend won’t be too bad, Mikey supposes. Awkward, maybe, but making a friend of Frank can’t be an awful thing.

 

Frank nods, moving towards the fridge. “Do you want something to drink? We have water and iced coffee. It might not be a long menu but it serves our needs!” Frank jokes, opening the fridge and looking expectantly at Mikey.

 

“Coffe’d be nice.”

 

Frank nods, surprising Mikey by tossing him a can. “Hope you don’t mind, it’s all we’ve got. Gee cleans us out of coffee pretty regularly, and these are usually the last to go.”

 

“Ah. Cool. Gee likes coffee, then?”

 

“Mm,” Frank says, nodding as he pulls a filtered pitcher of water out of the refrigerator, shutting it and pulling a cup out of a worn cupboard. “Runs on it. From morning until night, that’s about all that’s drunk.”

 

Mikey chuckles. “I’m like that, too.”

 

Frank raises an eyebrow. “Oh, are you now? Not a tea kind of guy, then? Do you hate decaf?”

 

Mikey shrugs. “I never really got into it, so I’m not really particular. My older brother… well, anyway, he liked coffee a lot. He used to rant, sometimes, about decaf and people who only drank tea. Said they couldn’t take the strong taste.”

 

Frank laughs, leading Mikey to what could be considered a living room. A slightly sagging couch, an empty bookshelf and a two cardboard boxes sealed shut with packing tape.  “That sounds a lot like Gee.”

 

Mikey nods absentmindedly, sitting next to Frank on the sofa. “Did you move in recently?”

 

Frank nods. “Yeah, sorry for the mess. We’ve only been here… I think it’s been two weeks.”

 

“Oh,” Mikeys’s surprised, though his face hardly shows it. They’ve only lived here a week longer than he has. “Do you like it?”

 

Frank shrugs. “I liked our old place better. But we had to move here for work. We lived in Bristol before. What about you?”

 

Mikey shrugs. “It’s okay.”

Frank nods, starting to say something when sounds of the lock turning and door opening run through to the living room, and Frank gets up, going to the short hallway that still blocks the view.

 

“Hey Gee, we’ve got that neighbor over. We’re all gonna go for drinks, ‘kay?” Mikey hears Frank’s voice ask.

 

“Mhm, sure. Though I don’t know if he’ll want to come when he sees me,” It’s a very… masculine voice.

“Jeez, what did you do to him?”

 

A chuckle. “You’ll find out.”

 

A moment later, Mikey’s surprised to find a man walking into the apartment, not a woman like he expected, followed by Frank, dark hair and a very light but purposeful walk.  A dark leather jacket and tight jeans, creamy skin, and Mikey doesn’t know what to say.

 

Instead, he whispers.

 

“Gerard.”


End file.
